


A Most Scandalous Pastime

by n0m_de_plum



Category: Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: Anal Sex, Denial of Feelings, Double Penetration, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drugged Sex, Dubious Ethics, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Multi, Recreational Drug Use, References to Drugs, Threesome, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 07:28:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5618659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n0m_de_plum/pseuds/n0m_de_plum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for KinkMeme Prompt: Holmes & Watson are in DENIAL, DENIAL, DENIAL. To satiate the desire between them, they go out and pick up women together in the middle of the night, bring them back to Baker Street, and fuck them. Sometimes Watson will fuck the woman and Holmes will watch, sometimes they'll do the opposite, and sometimes-- rarely, but especially when their need for one another is especially great-- they'll fuck her simultaneously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Most Scandalous Pastime

I join Holmes as he stuffs the betting tickets into his trouser pocket. 

“Good show as always, old man,” I grin at him.

“Yes, although, there is a disappointing scarcity of opponents tonight. I fear my energy has not been fully spent inside the ring,” he comments as he takes swig from his wine bottle. His throat leaps up and down as he swallows, and then meets my eyes...an unspoken question in them.

I shift off my bad leg before answering, “I believe it is your turn this time.”

He sets the wine bottle down, “I'll see you at home then.”

I nod and climb up the steps to go through the brewery and out the door. Once outside I close my top coat against the chill in the air and turn toward Baker Street.

I scarcely remember how this began. Over the years Holmes and I have come to share practically everything else, so in a way it only makes sense that eventually women joined the list.

It is not something we do very often. As a matter of fact, it is only quite rarely. Specifically, times when Mrs. Hudson is away. She puts up with so much already living with two bachelors, I could not, in good conscious, subject her to this as well. 

When I enter 221b the house is cold. This time she has gone to visit her sister in Kent.

I pass the downstairs parlour, and head straight up to the sitting room where I light a fire, that is after clearing away the mess of papers that Holmes has left dangerously close to the fire place. Gladstone, who had been sleeping in the corner, appears by my side to take his usual place on the hearth. I stroke his ears briefly before letting him settle down while I go to hang up my coat and hat.

I hear the door downstairs open, and two sets of footsteps on the stairs. 

Holmes appears a moment later followed by a small, dark-haired lass.

“Watson,” he nods to me and tosses his hat haphazardly onto an end table, “Betsy, my good friend Watson.”

The woman inspects me with bleary eyes, “He's the doctor? The one you told me about?”

“Yes, my dear, of course. If you would have a seat, he shall get you what you need shortly.”

After Holmes guides her into a chair, I follow him over when he goes to hang up his coat.

“What exactly am I to get her?” I ask suspiciously.

“A certain tincture, which, under normal circumstances, is only used by a doctor,” he answers.

“You don't mean you promised her...” his silence is answer enough, “Holmes!”

“She said she would accept it in lieu of monetary compensation, which, as I have no had a cases this month, I felt was a good idea.”

I glare at him in response.

“Come now, Watson, it isn't as if what we're doing isn't already the height of immorality,” he reasons while unbuttoning his waistcoat...which is actually my waistcoat.

I continue to scowl at him, but find that I can't disagree with his logic. 

I sigh, giving in as usual, “Bring her to my room and I'll get my bag.”

From my bag I retrieve a vial of chloral hydrate. With a twinge of professional guilt, I mix an amount appropriate for a woman her size into a glass of brandy.

“You have my drink?” she asks immediately when I join her and Holmes in my bedroom.

I wordlessly hand her the glass, and watch as she gulps it down with unrestrained eagerness. After finishing the brandy, she sinks down into my chair calmly.

I turn and notice Holmes sitting at my desk, his syringe in front of him, rubbing at the crook of his arm. Apparently substance abuse is the order of the evening. With mild exasperation I pluck the glass which is now drooping from the girl's hand, and march over to the desk to pour some of the brandy for myself. I have no interest in being the only sober person in the room.

Holmes hand grips my mine as soon as I touch the decanter, “Don't, dear heart, it'll only deaden your desire.”

His pupils are blown and his gaze burns with manic intensity. While, medically, I know what he says is true, I have a hard time believing it possible at the moment.

He picks up his syringe, which I notice still has some solution in it, “You can have some of mine.”

“No, Holmes,” I answer.

He stares at me for a moment, before gently turning my arm over with the hand he has over mine.

“It'll only be this once, Watson,” he says as he slides my shirt sleeve up, “No one need know.”

I want to argue with him, but for some reason do not. When he feels certain I won't protest he lifts the syringe and slides the needle into my arm.

I grit my teeth against the burning inside me until the removes the needle. 

He rises from the chair and stalks over to the girl who is staring at nothing in particular, her eyes glazed and vacant. The drug worked more quickly than I anticipated.

I sit down in the chair Holmes previously occupied while he lifts her to her feet and begins to undo the laces at the back of her dress.  
The dress slides to the floor revealing that she's wearing nothing but a soiled petticoat underneath. Also that she's almost painfully thin. No wonder the chloral worked so quickly. 

After Holmes unties her petticoat, he removes his own shirt and drops it on the floor with her clothes. He takes her hand, she follows him over to my bed, and lays down mindlessly while Holmes undoes his belt to remove his trousers.

My heart speeds up. The cocaine must be taking effect. 

The girl startles when Holmes slides into bed next to her, but he holds her steady. With a few pats on her back she instantly relaxes and allows him to pull her into his lap.

He does this every time. Holmes has the ability to deduce just what his bed mate needs. In this case it was to calm the girl, but in most cases the result is his partner crying out in pleasure under his ministrations. Every time I witness it I burn with a mixture of envy and desire.

His eyes rise up to meet mine. He does this every time as well. The entire time he keeps his gaze locked on me.

I tried it once when it was my turn to bring home the woman. In the midst of things I looked up at him. He was watching from the very chair I currently occupy with the same intense gaze, resting his hand just below the waistband of his trousers. It brought me to completion surprisingly fast.

I slip my braces off and open my collar to ease my breathing. 

Holmes has arranged them so that he is sitting up right with her on his lap, her legs surrounding his waist. Their closeness casts a harsh light on just how small she is. Holmes is by no means a large man, but he nearly dwarfs her in comparison.

A slight hitch in his breathing is the only indicator of the moment he is inside her. He makes no other moves though, instead holding my gaze, head cocked in a manner that can only be described as an invitation.

My heart is racing and I feel on edge. How he can sit so still with the same drug racing through his veins...

I shove myself out of the chair, undoing the buttons on my shirt as I hobble toward the bed. I remove the rest of my clothes once I get there. As I ease myself closer to them Holmes presses a small vial into my hand.

Where had he been keeping that? And had he planned his all along?

The thought should bother me, but at the moment I only feel the need consuming me.

As I uncork the vial, I take a deep breath and remind myself to slow down. We may be using this unfortunate girl, but I have no wish to see her physically injured. 

I apply some of the olive oil to my hand, and ease it down across her buttocks. With careful precision I tease her nether opening until I feel the resistance leave her muscles.

I douse my cock with the oil. My flesh is so fevered an absurd part of me almost expects it to sizzle

I scoot toward them on my knees. The girl's head lolls back against my shoulder, her eyes wide and passive. If not for the feel of her heart beating steadily through her back I would worry her life had slipped away.

I slide in carefully, inch by agonizing inch, determined to make it so that she'll feel as little of this once the drug wears off as possible. I can't help the groan that escapes me when I'm finally sheathed in the impossibly tight grip.

I lift my head to find myself looking straight into Holmes face. His dark eyes are staring at me even more intently than he does his experiments. I feel dreadfully exposed, but, even so, a stab of arousal nearly knocks me out of my senses.

I maintain my composure with difficulty as Holmes moves, causing the girl to rock around me. My entire body thrums, and I cannot stand to remain still. I want to be careful with my thrusts, but her body is so tiny I cannot get a firm grip and leverage is hard on my bad leg in this position.

In frustration, I reach beyond her to brace against the headboard, but lose my balance and end up gripping Holmes' waist. Before I can react he reaches behind me and pulls me firmly forward with a groan. I discover why a second later when he moves within her. I can feel him against me. My breath catches, but I hold down my vocalization this time.

I am too far gone to care that I'm clinging to Holmes and he to me. Instead, I lift my hands to his shoulders, and use him to gain leverage. He matches his thrusts with my own so that I feel the hard pressure of him against me every time. The one barrier of skin the only thing that separates us.

Holmes is still staring at me, and I can barely stand it...

He cups my head firmly pulling me forward and drinking down my lips with fervor, but surprisingly little harshness. I moan into his lips as pleasure overtakes me. He breaks away from me, his hands flying to the girl's bony hips, and his cries echo my own, his head thrown back exposing the skin of his neck enticingly.

Once my breathing returns to normal, I slide out of her and ease myself over to the floor. My leg is stiff. I balance against the wall to make it to the washroom where I quickly clean myself up.

I return to the bedroom with a damp towel. Holmes has already maneuvered himself and the girl underneath the sheets. I lift them back to wipe away what I've left on the girl.

“Watson,” Holmes breathes sleepily, “Leave it alone for now.”

I consider for a moment, and with a tired sigh store the soiled cloth beneath the bed. Not that there is anyone in the house who has not already seen it, but it makes me feel better.

I lower myself into bed, arrange the covers in a comfortable way, and lean over to turn down the lamp.

Holmes shifts so that he and the girl press closer to me. My pillow shifts as he moves his hand underneath it, and his other one meets mine across her hip.

I'm grateful for the darkness so that I cannot see if the intensity is still in his gaze, but I make no move to shake off his hand as I drift to sleep.


End file.
